You're what I want
by J0j2
Summary: AU, EoT. The Master has taken over the universe and all that's in it. Now he wants to take over the Doctor. TenDoctor/Simm!Master. T for violence and intensity
1. Chapter 1

The Master had taken over everything. Earth, the universe and now- now he had the one thing he'd always wanted. It was better than a birthday present (he'd had over 900 birthdays, not one gift the least bit memorable.) Even better than taking the galaxy by it's throat. It was something he'd wanted for what felt like eternity. The Doctor.

The moment he had everything, he searched for the collar and laced it around the Doctor's neck tightly. He protested, which made it all just so much sweeter. The Master strapped the leash into a pole on the ground and sat down next to his Doctor, adoring his captivity. He pulled him into his arms and stroked his hectic brown hair, the Doctor sitting in silence. "I win." the Master whispered into his ear, scratching behind it.

The Doctor was limp, unresponsive. He'd watched the universe explode and writhe and crumble. He'd watched the Master enslave the human race. And now there was nothing he could do but sit with someone he so wanted to love but couldn't. Not when things were like this. "Master?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Doctor?" he answered, lavishing all the control he held in his palm as he caressed the helpless Doctor's face, noting the softness of the skin.

"Why do you need the universe?" he brown eyes twinkling in sadness.

The Master grinned and rested his head on the Doctor's shoulders, inhaling him. "Because I want you."


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor's eyes became distant as he considered this. _Because I want you._ "I want the universe so I can have you." The Master whispered, scooting behind him and stretching out his legs on either side of the Doctor.

"You could have me without destroying so much." He replied quietly.

"No." The Master objected, wrapping his arms around the Doctor's torso, resting his hands on his belly, feeling him breathe. "_You'd_ have _me_." He tickled his stomach with a stray finger, making the Doctor squirm just slightly. _This regeneration's a little ticklish, I see, _The Master thought and grinned.

One of his hands slid up the Doctor's chest before tickling him slightly under the chin, then moving back down on to one of his hearts, pressing him against the Master's lungs. The Doctor didn't protest this and the Master felt almost disappointed. He'd hoped that he'd struggle, he loved the feeling of pinning someone down. After all, the Doctor couldn't be too hard to subdue. This regeneration was just soft skin plastered on bones.

"Don't you want to kill me?" the Master tempted. "After everything I've done?" he was probing him, trying to extract the violence from him.

There was a pause and it became evident the Doctor did not want to fight. "I did the same thing." The Doctor said finally. "I killed an entire race, I'm no better than you."

The Master held him closer, tighter. "Attack me. I've killed and enslaved everything you love, don't you want to at least hurt me?" Now he became slightly more confused than alluring.

"No."

"You're so confusing." The Master laid him down across his knees, propping up his head by cradling it. Then he scratched his tummy the way one would a puppy, tenderly and affectionately. But the Doctor thought it was more of a way of demonstrating power than a show of fondness as he let himself limp.

"Say my name."

The Doctor turned away, however few places there were to turn.

"Say it!" he demanded.

"Master…" he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Master." The Doctor said, clearly this time.

"Good." The Master oozed. "Aren't things nice when you follow the rules?" he leaned back on his right hand, the left one stayed and scratched behind the Doctor's ears.

The Doctor locked eyes with the Master. "We could fix all this. Right now, you come with me and we could travel everywhere and anywhere." He pleaded. "It would take time to clean up this mess, but we have time." His eyes were imploring, praying.

The Master became very serious. "I've worked too hard to have this. To have you here…in my arms." _In my clutches. _He thought.

An index finger found it's way onto the Doctor's face and drew a spiral on his cheek. The Master's face became playful in the way of a cat and mouse, controlling once again. "You look so adorable when you're subdued." His hand ran up and down his chest, sending chills down the Doctor's spine.


	3. Chapter 3

They sat there for a few more minutes, the Master caressing his face and chest. The Doctor did not protest, did not try to speak. He savored the moment, but sadly. So sadly. He'd wished many times before that they could spend time together, but not like this. Not when the universe was in such a state of despair. Not when the Master was obsessed with owning it all and owning him.

As much as the Doctor felt affection for the Master, he did not enjoy being captive with so little control. He didn't like the feeling of helplessness to either himself or the Master. He was tied here, literally. He could not move, he was none more than the Master's plaything - beloved plaything, but toy nonetheless.

"Life will go on forever for the both of us." The Master said finally. "I'll be everywhere and you'll be here, forever." He seemed so spellbound, in awe of this splendid idea.

The Doctor did not, but he didn't know what to say in objection. For once he didn't know what to say. The Master put his hand around the Doctor's cheeks and squeezed, giving him fish lips. "No comment? No diagnosis? You're so drab." He sighed and paused. "One moment, I'll be back in a second. Don't go anywhere." He smiled mockingly.

_I wish I could. _The Doctor thought ruefully.

The Master put him down on the white and black tile floor very gently, ruffling his hair once before he went on his merry way, walking so straight and tall. The Doctor sat, knees up, back straight the moment he left. He had to find a way out of here.

Of course his first instinct was to go to the pole and get the collar off. His second realization however, was that everything had been locked by the laser screwdriver and his sonic one was confiscated. He could try to rip off the collar, but it was made of thick leather, dyed a designer red. It didn't really look good on him either. The rope could be worked at, but that too would take time and concealment. If the Master saw, he would surely come up with a sturdier material.

Movement also proved a problem. The cord was about 4 feet long, making him uncomfortably close to the pole and without much room to move. It was going to be a rather difficult escape. He felt so exposed, in this large room. It was about the size of a chapel in a church, but completely empty, save a few windows that lined the top.

He'd be able to escape after the Master went off to bed or at least contemplate a good plan. Not now, he could walk in any second. Then, with the sound of a door creaking open, the Doctor turned and saw the Master walking in with a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk. Well, the Master wasn't carrying them. It was a random human, dressed in a maid's outfit.

Unfortunately, it was extremely ill fitting. It was a man wearing it, and a somewhat burly one at that. The Master grinned ear to ear at the appearance, the man didn't look nearly as excited as he carried the tray.

"Set them down here." The Master commanded, pointing at a spot just of out of the Doctor's reach. The man did as he was told. "Leave!" the Master shouted, out of nowhere. He smiled sarcastically and did a little finger wave at the man who silently stormed out.

When the sound of a door being shut was heard, the Master plopped down beside the tray of cookies and right near the Doctor. "Where were we?"


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor stared numbly at the plate of cookies. They did look good, home made possibly. He turned his gaze back to the Master who was sitting there, and for the first time since he'd come back in, the Doctor realized, he'd changed clothes.

He looked once again like Harold Saxon from a couple years ago, except his hair was still bleached. He had on a black tie and blazer, but he was only wearing socks, not shoes.

The Master grinned. "You like the attire? Recognize it?"

"It doesn't flatter you." The Doctor muttered, not actually being honest with the statement. He did, in fact, really like the way it looked.

The Master knitted his brow, "Yes it does!"

"No, no it doesn't." he replied simply.

"Never mind you. If you don't like my brilliant taste in fashion, then your just going to have to live with yourself." He harrumphed.

"Myself?"

Once again, a grin spread across the Master's face as he got up and loomed over the sitting Doctor. Tenderly, he knelt down, unbuttoned then took off the Doctor's brown blazer, tossing it aside. "We're going to have a wonderful evening, you and I." he said as he took the Doctor back into his arms on his lap, resuming the position they'd been in before. "Isn't that better? Not so hot in here, I don't want you perspiring."

The Doctor sighed, not making eye contact as he laid down on the Master's stomach, the other time lord's legs at either side of him, arms around his chest. The Master examined the Doctor's bare sleeves, plain white. He looked up and down his arms and then came upon an idea.

Entertaining, yes. Childish, very possibly.

He took his hands and stuck them under the Doctor's armpits, wriggling them. The Doctor immediately began to squirm away, and to his own horror he began to laugh as well. "Stop!" he cried as the tickling commenced.

The Master finally stopped and pulled the Doctor from behind into his arms, scratching his cheek affectionately but roughly. The Doctor regained his dark composure, obviously not finding this as fun as the Master was. "Don't ever do that again." He said, emanating a gloom and harshness that hardly ever came from the Doctor.

"You're no fun at all." The Master said bitterly, running his hand through the captive Doctor's hair. "Lighten up!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Lighten up!" the Master said, disappointed at the reaction the Doctor was having. He was expecting or rather hoping that the Doctor would warm up to this…or at least try to fight him. That would have been more fun. This no-response was the worst possible outcome.

The Master cuddled him closer, not ever admitting to have called it a cuddle. He pulled him up so he was laying horizontally, like a how one would to comfort a child. "It's like when I died." The Master recalled. "How you sobbed over my body." He smiled, reminiscing. "I didn't want to leave you, I wanted to watch your misery. But, perhaps it was better I left. I don't love long goodbyes."

The Doctor turned his head and stared brokenly into those evil eyes. From that moment he'd died in his arms, absolutely refusing to regenerate, something had been shattered inside him. Though he was here now, it did not heal. It only made it more hollow somehow.

"But I'm here now, Doctor. No need to cry over me any more." He whispered, eyes lowering gently. The words traveled through the Doctor's many pathways and openings, between his innards and two hearts. Though they were laced with a cruel humor, he tried to lose all interpretive meaning. He tried to beat them honest in an impossible way and the Doctor tried hard to accept them in that form.

"Why do you hate me?" the Doctor burst, silent but ruptured like that of a tiny soap bubble.

The Master's smile faded quietly. "I don't." he spoke. "I hate everything about you. Your _compassion_, your TARDIS, your beautiful face, your smile, absolutely _everything_." He leaned in. "But I don't hate you."

"Then why would you kill yourself just to watch me hurt?" the Doctor began to sit up, becoming slowly angrier and angrier. He moved away from the Master, distancing himself. "You say you don't hate me, but then you say you do! We're the last of a species! We're not supposed to spite and hurt each other!" the Doctor's arms flew up as he rose.

Sensing the uprising brewing and the feel of control slipping, the Master stood up defensively, unconfined unlike the Doctor. "That's not important!" he shouted.

"Then what is important?"

"That I get one thing that I've wanted. Just one thing, I ask you."

"You've had plenty."

"Plenty?" he scoffed, "I've never had anything except for these incessant drums!" his hands began to shake, the drums becoming louder. "Now I have two things. I have the universe and I have _you_." He panted, feeling the volume rise, trying to yell over it.

"Then let the universe go." The Doctor spoke matter-of-factly, but anger marinating the calm words.

"No!" he cried. "For once I have what I want. I don't need you to love me, but I want you here. Either to make you pleased or make you suffer, I don't care which. But I've waited too long." The drums didn't stop, and he felt his voice getting louder and louder, fighting over the drums. "Get down on your knees!" he screamed, louder than he had been in a very long time.

The sound echoed off the walls with the force of hectic time itself.

"We are equals!" the Doctor yelled, voice matching that of the Master's.

"I am the Master, you will kneel!" the Master's vocal chords transcended their shape as the room was engulfed with the sound of pure chaos.

The Doctor was going to counter him, unleash the fury of feeling like the last of your species, let out the pain of being betrayed and finally scream out the blame to whom would make one suffer such freezing isolation. But then something inside him imploded, sucking all those feelings into a hole of dark matter. Without power or will, he dropped to the floor in front of the Master, rendered inanimate, feeling the force of hundreds of years' canned emotions blast through his soul.

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><p>First AN: Wow, I actually haven't done one this entire story. Been so into it! Reviews are SO appreciated, if you fav, please review. What do you think? The story is going to go in and out of lightness and darkness. :D Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor felt so much in one instant that he became blind, became mute, became deaf – numb in absolutely everything as his body broke to the floor. And he didn't look up. Didn't want to see the Master who he knew stood above him, who he knew would be absorbing every moment of having conquered everything…truly everything.

Desperately the Doctor hoped he wasn't taking such satisfaction, but hope is just useless when logic and knowledge is there to shatter it. It was a second, a minute, an hour or a day of these two figures in place, but in all actuality, the Doctor knelt and the Master stood for only a moment - immeasurable, but believable.

Then the Master knelt, taking a knee but remaining above the Doctor, and stroked him from his forehead, down his spine. "You wanted to protect me," he breathed, "I'll be protecting _you_, Doctor."

Still the Doctor did not look up, but this time it was okay with the Master.

"I'll take good care of you, I promise." He said, unkindly but honestly. He almost sounded like a child who was begging his parents to keep a stray, _I'll take good care of him, I promise!_

The Master's eyes flowed over to the Doctor's hands. The knuckles were white, clenched fists on the tile floor. Gently, the Master put his hand over them, coaxing the out of the tight ball of bone. They released slowly, but the Doctor drew them in to his own body, putting space between him and the Master.

Somehow this hurt. Hurt badly that the Doctor would recoil. In this fashion, without putting up a fight. Anger and sadness mixed into some form of concrete that scraped at his chest and he just didn't know what to do with it. So he responded in the only way he knew how.

The Master yelled an exclamation as his fist flew down at the Doctor, right on his shoulder-blade. The Doctor didn't move or shake. He just stayed there. This made the Master even angrier, and this not working, he got up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The dark sound reverberated off everything in the next-to-empty room.


	7. Chapter 7

The Master needed control. He needed to feel on top, in charge in order to function properly. However, the few times he was not in control were not learning experiences. He never learned to cope with failure, even though it seemed to even infect the air around him. Even now, as the ruler of the universe and the master of the Doctor, he still could not control everything.

As a result, the answers he could come up with to this were limited. Violence, force, mind control and degradation. Those four could all work on most creatures in the universe, but not the Doctor. The Master wasn't sure if he hated or loved the Doctor either. But this was a separate issue. He could slit the Doctor's perfect wrists while holding him close in his arms.

Right now, he wanted the Doctor to be in a bereft type of mood. Calm, like before. Then the Master would be able to resume his playful temperament. He liked that much better than being enraged because his Doctor wouldn't respond.

"Filthy ape! Come hither!" he called to no human in particular. He loved that word, hither. It sounded like something was about to sink deadly venom into you, it was an evil sounding word. It suited the mood quite nicely, and thinking about old English made his anger diminish just slightly.

A group of humans were huddled in the corner, a couple trying to leave. The Master, annoyed at this incompetence, plucked one at random. It was a scrawny girl, probably hadn't eaten in a while. It would make sense, he rarely threw his left overs out. "On your knees." He seethed, pointing to the ground.

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><p>The door creaked open. "Oh, Doctor!" The Master called in a sing-songy voice.<p>

The Doctor was sitting criss-crossed on the floor, back straight. His eyes bulged when he saw the demonic sight in front of him. He whispered something ancient in horror.

Standing there was a sobbing girl, bent over. Cuts oozed red blood and bruises decorated her. Cruel whip marks laced her back. The Master dragged the foul weapon behind him. "It's made in Saudi Arabia."

"Leave her be…" the Doctor said, weakened by the image in front of him, the will to be angry was extracted from him.

The Master dropped her to the floor and she collapsed. He turned to the door and kicked her with his foot out of the room and slammed it unnecessarily behind her. The Master smiled and walked over to him with open arms, relieved that he now held the control he so craved. "Lay down."

The Doctor complied, an unforgivable, unforgettable sadness stinging his eyes.

The Master sat down next to him, the defenseless Doctor, and grabbed a cookie from the tray. "Do not provoke me again, Doctor."

"Don't hurt them…please don't hurt the humans. They're so fragile."

"Just like my Doctor." He laughed, "It's so easy to break you." He said 'break' like he was tearing apart the word. "But there are rewards when you do what I say." He gently dunked the cookie in the milk and cradled the Doctor's head, coaxing it into his mouth. "They're home made." He said once the Doctor took a bite. "Do you like them?"

"They're alright." The Doctor replied blankly. "Your bloodied slave spoiled my appetite." The Master fed him another bite. A drop of milk dribbled down his cheek.

"You're making a mess." The Master said quietly, taking his thumb and smearing it away. "You always were a messy eater, Doctor." He stroked his cheek with a stray hand.

It was strange how the Master was so psychotic he could senselessly whip a poor girl to tears but the calm down enough to feed cookies and milk to his captive plaything. Worrying, almost. This incarnation was deranged in a way the Doctor had not seen. He wished that he could help, wished that he could cure the drum beat. It was unknown to him if that would change him for the better, but it might get through to him instead of this shallow, power crazy façade.

"What is it you want from me?" the Doctor asked dejectedly through the cookie.

The Master thought about this, "I want you to be here. I want you to be mine." Mine. Mine. Such a word captured his greediness in rogue elegance.

"Do you want me to be sad?"

"Doctor, you're a somewhat intelligent being, use a better word." This sounded slightly more like the Master he'd known before all this. Over-confident, yes, but more real, more reachable.

"Depressed, anguished, defeated!" he burst out without moving positions.

"Depressed…no." the Master shook his head violently. "That's no fun. Anguished, maybe. Depends if you'll still be functional then." He paused for a while. "Defeated, no."

This came as a surprise to the Doctor. "I don't want to play twenty questions, Master." The Master grinned when he heard his address. "So what do you want?"

A moment, then, "You to give and strive to please me." He declared.

"So you just want one more slave. You already have six billion."

"No." he said. "You're special."

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><p>AN: Hope you liked this chapter. Sorry, it's going kind of slowly. It'll get more entertaining, soon as I can fix the damn mood in it! Reviews are SERIOUSLY welcomed. Silly ideas for what the Master should do with the Doctor at his disposal and serious reviews on the writing and plot. ALL ARE APPRECIATED! :D


	8. Chapter 8

Special was the word you use when something was really unique. Special was the word you used when something is one in a million. To the Master, he owned something special, a very special ownership to a very special thing.

"With you it's about having the most toys, isn't it?"

The Doctor's voice penetrated its way into the Master's head through the drums. "I am quite a collector. Earth, check," he began his list, "The human race, check. The Doctor, check." He grinned in a way that was not quite sane.

"Did you ever get your hands on those teletubbies?" the Doctor said, relieved that he could still have the strength to make a jab at the Master.

"No." he pouted, probably not knowing that teletubbies were created for human infants. "I'll send someone to get them for me. Quite the marvel; true evolution, there's telly in their belly!"

The Doctor wanted to laugh, but several things kept him from doing so. "Do you want me to be afraid of you, Master?" he decided to ask.

"Say it again."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. "Master."

"Good!" he clapped his hands together, smiling. "Do I want you to be afraid of me…" he struck an overdramatic thinking pose. "No. You'll be no fun then either. But…lets have some fun!" he took another cookie but this time ate it himself. "I'll be right back." He smirked mischievously, put the Doctor's head down on the floor and trotted out the door.

How had he gone so insane, the Doctor asked himself. It almost made him sad to see his friend like this, the one being he could ever truly love. But between the drums and his genius and the irresistible tempt of power, it wasn't so difficult to put one and one together. But never mind that now. He had to escape, however impossible it seemed.

It would have to take his wits instead of brawn. He'd have to manipulate the Master, get him to trust him enough to take him out of this room. It would take time, he was sure but _that_ wasn't what worried him. What scared him the most was at what cost.

So when the door swung open, the Doctor's first trial of self-respect and dignity would take place.

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><p>This is kind of a little nothing chapter, a transition if you will. Basically, I had an idea of how to give this a plot line instead of it being this weird fluff. XD So, bear with me, the next chapter is going to be based on some outrageous fanart I found...hehe. THANKS TO ALL THE REVIEWERS! I love you guys like you don't even know! Give me more reviews, they are all super helpful!<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

"You said you didn't like my impeccable taste?" The Master said, stepping over to the Doctor. "Well your going to have to live with yourself."

"What are you-"

"Shhh…" the Master put his index to the Doctor's lips. He knelt down next to him and all too gently removed his tie, his fingers brushing his neck. Then his wrung it around his wrist. "We're going to have a splendid time - well, I am." He snickered, a thin smile crossing his face. "Bring it in here!" he shouted to the doorway. The same muscular man in the maid's outfit delivered a pile of clothes in front of the two time lords.

The Master grinned and shooed him away the way one would a fly. "Really?" The Doctor sighed, "Dress up?"

"When _you _dress the way you do, I think you need me, Doctor." He said as he plucked through the clothing and threw something at the Doctor. "Put this on. I'll be back when you're decent. Or at least somewhat bearable." The Master ran his hand through the Doctor's hair and left, shoving his hands into his blazer's pockets.

The door slammed for the twentieth time today.

The Doctor examined the clothing that was laid out in front of him. It was another maid's outfit. Classic 1920's era. He sighed to himself, then examining the options laid out in front of him. He could just not wear it, but he had to put it on for a number of reasons, the top one being that if he wanted to earn the Master's trust, this _was_ absolutely necessary. Anyway, no one would be looking except for the Master, and honestly, as much as he disliked being degraded by him, it would all be worth it when he made his escape and saved everything he loved. Including the Master.

So, he undressed, and with much difficulty because of the collar, donned it. The worst part was that it actually fit almost perfectly - aside from the tights. _Never_, he noted _wear panty hose, even if I am regenerated into a time lady. _

He put his head in his hands. The Master was so power crazy. It was almost corny that the Master would have him put this on. He laughed bitterly at the thought. The Master and the Maid. He always needed to exercise his power in whatever way he could, even down to the clothes on the Doctor's back.

He felt his face becoming warm as he sat down, holding his real clothes that, were _in fact_, in good taste. He felt like a dog - worse, one of those lap dog chihuahuas that humans would put little booties and sweaters on.

He waited, feeling rather ashamed of himself and embarrassed in full. He wasn't about to call the Master in him just to laugh at his toy. After about five more minutes, the other time lord's voice came from the other room. "This shouldn't take this long to put on a skirt, Doctor!"

"It doesn't." The Doctor said, turning away from the door.

The Master entered the room, a momentary pause - and burst out laughing. It thundered all the way to the other end of the room. "This is _too _good!" he wiped away a tear. The Master rushed over to him, taking him by the ribs and pulling him into his own chest and then finding his way back down the floor with the Doctor in his arms. He rather liked the position, laying down with the Doctor in his lap.

The Master was grinning like a child, giddy with excitement. The Doctor had always known he'd been strange, but honestly, this went rather beyond what he'd usually encountered.

"Ask me for a cookie." He demanded.

"Can I have a cookie?" the Doctor said flatly.

"Ah, ah ah." The Master chided. "'_Master_, may I have a cookie?'" There was a long pause. "Doctor, do I have to whip another ape for you to comply? Or do I have to whip _you_?"

"Whip me."

"That can be arranged." The Master felt a little disappointed. "Wouldn't it just be easier to do what I ask? It's so simple, even a dolt like you could follow those instructions."

"_Master_, may I have a cookie." He replied as sarcastic and drily as verbally possible.

"You're just no fun, are you!" The Master cried, reaching for the pastry and putting it to the Doctor's lips, where it was eaten slowly. The Master needed to be entertained, he was a lord after all. Not just any lord, a _time _lord, therefore he did not like being bored. "What are we going to do for the rest of eternity, Doctor?"

A/N: Did that totally suck? Or was it okay? I'm sitting back here and I can't tell. Please please please review with critique on how I'm writing for the characters. I beg you for reviews. Please? With a cherry on top? With a little Master timelord on top?


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of eternity with the Master. Like this.

It was a horrible thought, for this to continue on forever. However, an eternity with the Master in it's own did not sound quite so terrible. The Doctor wasn't entirely sure how to respond to this, either fortunately or unfortunately, the Master provided an answer for the time being.

"I don't particularly like this outfit on you…" he looked the Doctor over. "Let's try something else. I think you'll like this better." He stroked the side of the Doctor's face and behind his ears gently. He reached over to the pile of clothing and picked out a piece of bright red fleecy…something. "Isn't it soft?" The Master rubbed it against his cheek and tickled the Doctor under the chin. He folded his head down out of natural reaction. "I'll let you get changed. Don't take too long this time."

The Master got up and left the room once again, leaving the Doctor, collar, maid's dress and all, alone. The Doctor wasn't entirely sure what it was, so he unfolded it and laid it out. It was a bright red fleece footy-pajama suit. The Master sure had some strange…fetishes, if you could call them that, the Doctor remarked to himself. Again, he did not particularly want to wear it, but he stripped out of the dress in nothing but his underwear, and put on the red PJs, he face getting flushed out of embarrassment.

The Doctor, despite the Master's wishes, did not call him back in. Finally after about four minutes of waiting, "I'm coming back in there. You had better be decent."

He didn't respond, but the Master walked in and smiled contentedly. "That's much better for you." He walked over to his Doctor who looked extremely annoyed. "Now sit down." He pointed to the floor. The Doctor felt he was in no position or clothing to argue.

The Master hated beyond hate that this regeneration was slightly shorter than the Doctor. It always made him uncomfortable and he couldn't stand it. So, he would have to make the Doctor sit.

The Doctor glared at him, and the Master stuck out his lower lip. "Is someone cranky, Doctor?" he knelt down above him, mussing his mussed hair. "What would you like?"

"For you to listen to me."

"I'm all ears, Doctor." He smiled arrogantly.

"Let the humans go. I'll play whatever games you want but let them go."

"I don't need to free them to have you. I have everything I need, right here."

"What about the drums?" the Doctor said, eyes serious.

"What of them?"

"Don't you need them gone?"

There was a very long silence. "Why do you care?"

"Because I want to help you."

"All you've every done is hurt me and everyone around you." He hissed. "You destroyed Gallifrey and you try to redeem yourself going around as the Doctor and fixing everything." The Master burned into him, "But you can't fix me."

The Master's fist flew on to the side of the Doctor's cheek, the Doctor letting out a cry as he fell back from the impact. The Doctor felt tears prick his eyes as the pain the Master had inflicted on him was absorbed. His face just felt throbbing but inside his soul, the one person who he cared so deeply for and made him so sad had just cut him. He didn't want to face the Master about the Time War. He didn't want to have to confront the thought that he'd wanted to keep dormant forever and he didn't want the Master to hate him. So desperately he didn't want hatred.

He tried whatever he could to hold them back, but the tears spilled out as he berated his face to be still, to be dignified. He felt himself curl up, melting on to the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

How could he be so cruel to bring up the time war? How could the mood shift so drastically so quickly? The Doctor felt his body racked by the tears that penetrated his eyes. Determined to hold them back, he shut them tightly. The Master stepped over to him and stood over the crying Doctor, looking down as if disgusted, but slowly that expression turned into one of delight, very pleased.

The Doctor opened his eyes as he felt the tears plaster on his face. He saw the Master gazing down at him and watched as he bent down next to him, carefully wiping away a tear that the Doctor had not felt. The Doctor shut his eyes once more. Soon he felt the Master's cold hands pulling him into his lap, his head now cradled on the Master's soft chest instead of on the hard tile floor.

"I did what I had to." The Doctor whispered.

"You had to kill every single one of them." The Master echoed, smiling a smile full of anger, but soaking up every ounce of pain the Doctor emitted. He noticed the Doctor's eyes shut tighter, in pain. He held him in close, absorbing all the pain. The Doctor felt himself nudge in closer to the Master, searching for comfort in the other timelord, knowing all too well why.

It was two hearts beating, so familiar…even if the hearts were black as coal.

He felt himself leaning in so close, trying to bury himself almost. The Master accepted him and slid his hand up and down the Doctor's red fleecy back, enjoying the outfit and vulnerability it offered.

There's nothing quite like when someone rubs your back. It's so reassuring in every sense of the word, the pressure is something that all physical beings love and crave. It was this that the Doctor had not had in a time too long to not have. He didn't care that the Master did this possessively, cruelly and hatefully. It was enough to be there, enough to have this physical contact that he had wanted for so long from another time lord.

The Doctor pressed into the Master's chest, wanting to himself wrap his arms around the Master. He knew this would not be tolerated, though. The Master could hold the Doctor but not vice versa. So instead he sat there, feeling the Master's fingers run up and down his spine.

The Doctor noted the smell of the Master. It was something sweet, like the cookies. A warm smell, like that of a summer day. Mildly, the Doctor wondered what he himself smelled like.

Abruptly, the soothing touch on his back stopped. "Lay down on the floor." The Master commanded. The Doctor did not oppose and did what he was told. Back on the ground, he laid, feeling very exposed, staring up at the Master.

"Shut your eyes."

Obediently, his eyelids fell.

"When you're in the dark, Doctor," he began, "You are totally helpless. Completely and utterly defenseless because you do not have your sight. You can't see anything that I'm going to do. That way, you have to trust me." He spoke condescendingly. "There are two ways to get someone to trust you. Patience and force." The Master bent down silently and breathed over the Doctor. "I'm not a very patient person, Doctor."

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><p>REVIEWS, REVIEWS, REVIEWS! That would make me very happy! I take requests for this story and suggestions are super helpful. Thanks for reading!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

The Doctor's heartbeat raced and for less than a second he thought he could hear the drums that seem to infest the Master. He felt afraid, he felt so sad, longing to be where he was only a minute ago. The Doctor lay there, not daring to open his eyes. For now he would do as he was told, he didn't know what else he could do.

The Master bent down over him, grinning at all the control he held. He thought of all the things he could do right now…how appealing they all were. He thought of all the blood and the tears greedily, and had trouble deciding on which one.

Finally, the idea was set and he knew what he would do. He didn't want to cut his face, which would ruin it. No, he would keep the Doctor's face safe from harm, save the tears that would run down it. He thought of the arms, but decided that wasn't good enough. Cuts on the feet and legs would be extremely painful, which was savory, but that would make it more difficult for the Doctor to obey orders. So it was decided that the torso was the perfect place, right between the two hearts.

As the ruler of the earth and universe, he had had many things made in his honor such as whips, knives, warheads, decorative cheese spreaders and branding irons. The branding irons were perhaps his favorite. They looked sleek and very dangerous. The Timelords had never come up with such a simple and cruel invention, and it was divine.

"Don't open your eyes, Doctor." The Master whispered as he drew his finger down his nose. "I'll only be a minute."

The Doctor felt himself exhale shakily. He had no idea what was going to happen and it was terrifying. The Doctor was a man who himself, loved being in control. He was not a controlling person by any means, but he was always on top of the situation – or at least tried to act like that when the world depended on it. Hardly ever would he let it show that he did not.

This was something that the Doctor and the Master shared. They both enjoyed being in control. The difference was that the Master believed that control corresponded with power and possession. The Doctor did not.

This was one of the extenuating circumstances that let the Doctor's fear of not knowing and not having power over the situation at hand show blatantly. He lie there, feeling defenseless and venerable. The only thoughts that were comforting were those of escape and however impossible they seemed, getting the _Master _to trust the _Doctor_.

The Master was not patient, but the Doctor could be and this would be the winning quality, he just wasn't sure how to use it. If the Doctor could get the Master to trust him enough that he thought he was obedient, maybe then he could get somewhere. Sadly, he remembered it was more like tricking him than like trust.

The slam of the door opening against a wall shattered his thoughts. "Doctor." The Master called out, feeling his own smile all over his face. The footsteps of others were heard, the footsteps of humans weary and scared of the Master. "My Doctor." He seemed to direct his attention to the slaves. "Look at him, my Doctor. You thought he was your last hope, did you? Well look at him now. He's not your Doctor, he's mine, just like all of _you._" He spat. "Put all of this down by my Doctor." The two timelords both noted the use of the word _my_.

Hurriedly, human feet carried heavy things over, put them down rather noisily, then ran out as quickly as they'd came. The door closed quietly this time. "Doctor, you are mine now." He said, bending down. His fingers found the zipper on the pajama suit. "I don't want you to forget that." The slow buzz of the top coming undone filled the room all the way down to his belly button. "Ever."

The Master reached into the cauldron that held the branding iron, hot as hell itself. Aligning the letters with great care on the skin between two beating hearts, he pressed it down slowly and at the first touch of iron to flesh was a scream to wake every single timelord corpse.

He removed it the second after he felt the letters P-O-M sink in.

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><p>Aaah! I'm sorry! This chapter honestly scared the crap out of me and I'm still a little afraid of myself. This is an intense chapter and I don't know if it was too much. This is about the extent of the story in terms of gory-ness. Reviews are super appreciated because of this particular chapter. What did you think, was it too much? Ideas for the plotline are also really appreciated. Thanks to all my reviews for the glowing feedback.<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

The drums were so loud, louder than the Doctor's screaming. Oh, so very loud. It was a symphony of cries and drums in this room as the Master savored it, condoning the pain as he listened. It seemed the more power he held, the louder they became but it was splendid as he watched his Doctor writhe in accompaniment to the Drums.

The Doctor wept in shear pain as he tried to control the noises that blurted from him. Slowly, he felt himself grow quieter, the pain still burning into him like a ravenous beast, eating at his flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight he thought the muscles would break.

The Master bent down next to him and dipped his fingers in the water where he'd put the branding iron, hand becoming cool and wet. He rubbed it on the Doctor's chest, who flinched at the touch. The Doctor's mouth began to open, however his eyes still closed. "How…how could you do this…?" he whimpered, stumbling on the sounds of the words. He felt so angry, so betrayed, but betrayed for what? The Master was so cruel, but in the Doctor's eyes, he just couldn't see it. Refused to see it.

"Because you're mine, Doctor. The Property Of the Master." He outlined the letters with his index finger, the Doctor wincing. He doused his hand again and lay the water across the Doctor's chest, in the back of his mind he was grateful for the cool water. POM. That was what was on his chest. A label of ownership. "Doctor, I'll never let you die. Never let you regenerate and lose this mark. You are mine and you will always remember it." He rubbed more water on. "Property of the Master. I rather like that."

The Doctor curled up, pulling his head in to his torso, so deeply wounded. It was so hard to face what he always knew what was. He always knew just how horrible the Master was, how unbelievably malicious. He just never wanted to face it, to confront it. There were only two timelords and there was nothing he wanted more to believe that he did like the other, that, somewhere underneath the insanity and true evil, there was light. But that idea just became more and more distant and impossible.

He felt himself being picked up by the arms of the Master once again, and was not sure if he should resist. He didn't. The pain seethed through him and it needed to be let out in one way or another. He sat up in the Master's arms, despite the warnings in his chest. "Why do you hate me?" he screamed, "Why are you so angry? Why…How…" he searched for which word he wanted to use, but threw it out. "…Could you do this?" he cried, eyes becoming furious. "We are the last two." He hissed, "The very last. We are supposed to be the best of Gallifrey…" he coughed over his raging tears.

The Master put a supporting arm behind him and stroked his hair. "I will do what I want, Doctor. I am the best of Gallifrey and you're lucky anyone would keep you. You're lucky that _I _would keep you." He hugged him and the Doctor felt repulsed by everything. Steaming tears fought their way down his face as the collar rubbed fiercely around his neck.

For once the Doctor had no idea how to react, no idea how to respond, no idea of what to do – and it was terrifying.

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><p>At this point in the game, reviews for the plot are considered crucially helpful. Please take thirty seconds right now to consider this. Your lord and Master, (Mister Master) Commands you! The next chapter is going to be an umph in the plot, I promise. Critiques and suggestions...PLEASE!<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

The Master's breath was rhythmic as his fingers lovingly and possessively ran themselves through the Doctor's hair. The Doctor couldn't help from crying. Genuine tears of bitter confusion, sadness and chaos surfaced and he curled up even further, trying to shut himself out from the rest of the universe.

Still, despite his fetal position, he found a hand belonging to the other time lord rubbing his belly. The Doctor didn't care, he just felt his body release into a state of lackadaisical jelly. He didn't want to resist, he didn't want to be here.

He thought of what he did want. He wanted the Tardis, he wanted Rose. He wanted the Time War never to have happened, he wanted something to calm him down. He wanted a banana and he wanted Earth to be safe…he wanted all those things and the Master to travel with him in the Tardis. As equals, as companions.

The Doctor would forgive him then. The Doctor would forgive him always because they were the last. Forgiveness was the attribute of the strong, he reminded himself, thinking of a human's words. He was strong and so he could forgive. But right now he was not sure he could, he felt so weak.

The Master's hand began to tickle his tummy and he curled in tighter. The hand then lay flat before trying to coax him out of the ball. He was so loose that he came undone quite easily and the Master cradled his body, gently rubbing his stomach. "Doctor," he said, "Let's go for a walk."

The Doctor stopped his spiral of despair for a moment and looked up at the Master. He hadn't expected for the Master to do anything other than taunt him, let alone leave the room. The Master's eyes were lowered, as if he was in a sarcastic mood. He didn't smile, but his eyes seemed like a smirk. He petted the Doctor's bare belly once again, and although the imprint the iron had made still burned, it tickled.

The Master pulled him closely, tucking the Doctor's head on his shoulder, and then stood, propping him up. Then the Master tightened the collar around the Doctor's neck cruelly. As if he needed a reminder of the Master's power right now, after the three letters on his chest stung so intensely.

Breathing was more difficult than usual, but doable. The leather scratched against his neck and it hurt badly. The Doctor stood, slightly slouched. The Master's hand slithered up on to his shoulder. "Come on." He said chidingly, and gave a tug to the collar.


	15. Chapter 15

The Master's hand turned the knob and for the first time that day, he saw what was outside of his room. Twenty humans scrubbing down the entire main space, and the second the Master and the Doctor entered, they did so more frivolously. "Slaves!" he called, "Look at your Master!"

Immediately they all turned around. "Now look at my _Doctor_." He said, grinning. Then the Master pointed to the letters on his chest that still burning with a fiery intensity. "He's mine. He can't save you now. If you had any trust in him, it's all gone." His smirk became bigger as the humans rested their eyes upon the Time Lord that wore red footy pajamas and a matching collar. "Get down on your knees, Doctor."

The Doctor thought of the twenty or so humans in the room. Their now fruitless existence, living in a world ruled by someone insane and power crazy. There was one thing he could still do; he could give them the faintest bit of hope.

The Doctor did not kneel.

The Master's eyes became lasers, piercing into him. His hand slid up the leash and pressed to his throat, threatening to tighten the collar. The Doctor's eyes were challenging. _I dare you. _

The dare was taken quickly and without regret. His lungs burned for air with the collar so fixed, and he threw out a gagging sound that echoed all over the silent room. The pain was worse than in his chest until suddenly, sweet oxygen made its way into his throat. The Doctor breathed in greedily before the Master's stray hand shoved into his chest, and he fell to the floor, coughing.

"This is your so called 'savior.'" He said, smiling down at the Doctor who had regained his breath just barely. "He's just as helpless as all of you." He spat at the floor near the Doctor and he stood up quickly, both avoiding the spit and rising from the humiliation. The second his spine became straight, the Master tugged his collar. "Come on, lets go, _pet_." The Master sniggered and pointed to the saliva. "You missed a spot."

Pet, he had said. A dog, a caged animal. He was the Doctor, always running. He would not appear any less to these hopeless humans for his and their own sake. They needed an ounce of strength, they deserved it. "Master." He said through a chest out of breath and a brave, semi-present smile. "You should clean that up yourself."

There was a silence worse than before, thinner than glass. "You should rub your bloody _face _in it!" he yelled, anger of the disobedience breaking through the air. He grabbed the Doctor by the back of his head and pushed him down towards the floor. It took him off balance but he stepped forward, supporting himself and not falling into the ground.

The Master realized this wasn't working, and tunneled his hand under the collar and yanked it up, pulling the Doctor by the neck. "Keep cleaning, you insolent apes!" he screamed, face becoming red. He tugged the Doctor to the door, opened it and shoved him in more aggressively than necessary, the Doctor was not resisting.

The slam against the doorframe was as explosive as the Master's voice. "You bloody bastard!" he detonated, "When I say kneel, you kneel. When I say cry, you don't _breath_." The Master's hand slithered to the front, pulling up the Doctor's head, stretching his neck. "You do not disobey me! How dare you?" he roared, "How…how dare you!" His voice was becoming exasperated.

His hand released the collar grip and wove around the Doctor's chest, clutching at the red fleece zipper, palm pressing on the engraving on his chest. "You are mine! You are all mine!"

Suddenly, the Doctor was jerked forward and his lips met the Master's, who locked him there, holding him down aggressively. The unkempt whiskers on the Master's face scraped the area around the Doctor's cheeks as the world became engulfed in fire, pain and light alike. His chest burned with the imprint of the Master's hand, making him writhe away.

As abruptly as it had happened, the Master tore him away brutally. But before the Doctor could collect himself and what had just ensued, he found a fist crumbling into his the side of his skull.

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><p>Sorry about the wait! I've been busy. Sorry, this chapter kind of sucks. It's in poor shape compared to the rest of the story, hope it reads okay. : Reviews much appreciated, thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed so far! You're what's keeping me writing! Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

It was very dark. The Doctor opened his eyes but it was all dark. Indistinguishable from eyelids shut. Everywhere, totally dark, and then there was a light, a glowing light with a reddish hue. Out of it was a silhouette, standing there in the midst of the red light. As the light became more and more vivid, it registered in the Doctor's eyes.

Gallifrey was burning.

Burning in the way that things become blackened and eventually, as if evaporating into the air is too much effort, melt. Everything he knew, melting away like a candle. Time moves, burning a candle at both ends but never had the Doctor imagined that it could burn Gallifrey.

He felt weak, everything emptying out as his body collapsed on the ground that was as cold as metal. The silhouette who's shaded by the inferno of a planet draws nearer. "Not everything you know, everything _we _knew." He whispers finitely. It's done, it's been accepted. Acceptance of my sin, the Doctor thought, all I really want.

A horrible thing that needed to be done, he knew. But right now he couldn't confront his reasons, just that this last other accepted him regardless of what he'd done. Acceptance…the word rang so well. He shut his eyes from the melting planet that's atmosphere contained screams of crying women and children.

"But it's not all gone." The Master's voice said, revealing the identity of the silhouette without revealing the face, footsteps echoing off the metallic sounding floor. His hand reached down to the Doctor. Without sight, he found it and rose from the ground, sturdy arm an aid.

There they stood side by side as Gallifrey burned and dripped and shattered. So many times, shattered, but now…now the Doctor knew, it could be different, it would be different - because it wasn't all gone.

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><p>The cold relief of water was shocking to wake up to as the Doctor realized the liquid surrounding him. His eyes opened wide to find the Master leaning on his hand on the side of the tub, watching him. He didn't say a word when their eyes met.<p>

"I'm awake…" The Doctor said idly, not enjoying the silence. His jaw hurt badly.

"I see the obvious, Doctor." His gaze drew over to the water, where he stuck his other hand in and splashed the Doctor. "The blood got all over you and it didn't meet my standards. I had to order in two slaves to clean in from the floor it was so damn sticky."

The side of the Doctor's mouth was in pounding pain and he rubbed it gingerly. Not only was his jaw uncomfortable, so was the wetness of the footy jim jam suit. "Master?"

He smiled at the use of his name. "Yes?" his hand in the water crawled up the Doctor's chest, resting on the skin embossed letters. The Doctor looked off at the wall, rethinking if he should have even said anything. "What?"

"Do...we have each other?" He asked. At this moment that was all that mattered. The Doctor knew how indefinitely he needed the Master without question, but as Gallifrey did melt in both his dreams and his reality, he needed to knew there were two pieces of Gallifreyan jetsam still alive, still there. He needed this from the Master and however much it saddened the Doctor, the affirmation had to come from someone as cruel as him.

The Master's eyes became intense with a spiraling depth. "No." he said, "I have you. It will _only _be this way, Doctor. You can't have me."

"I don't want you," the Doctor replied quietly, "I want to be equals."

"The only things that are similar about me and you is that we have two hearts pounding in our chest and millions have died at our feet." He hissed. The words bit hard.

"Don't you ever feel lonely?" the Doctor tried, "So alone?"

"Every damn day since the drums started in, Doctor. There are so many things I've learned from them. I don't need company, Doctor. I don't need your petty companions."

"Then why are you keeping me?" The Doctor sat up in the tub.

He hesitated. "Have you ever heard that human proverb, keep your friends close but your enemies closer?" the Master narrowed his eyes and got up, looking down at the man in the wet red suit. "Get out of the bath. I'll see you when you're decent." He growled, walking out and shutting the door.

Your friends close and your enemies closer. Apparently he does need company if he needs his enemies, the Doctor thought. Loneliness drives people to do horrible things, the Doctor knew this from experience. Watching the Master was like looking in a mirror, just another lonely soul. The Lonely Adversary.

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><p>Hope this story doesn't go on forever. XD How long do you guys think it should be? I think this is a pretty good chapter, looking forward to writing the next one. Tried to crank this out without making y'all wait for too long. Like it? Seriously, the more you review, the more I write. That's the way it works because it shows up in my inbox. It's not enough to subscribe, you must review! :D Thanks!<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

The Doctor noticed his hair was wet and very soft after he got out of the tub. The Master must have washed his hair for him. It was so hard to understand how someone so evil could know how to be so tender, so caring. The Doctor wondered why the Master had done such a deed. After quick examination of the question, he decided to claw on to the answer that was 'he doesn't hate me'. The Doctor knew acceptance was too much to wish for.

The Master had apparently gotten tired of dress up for the moment and left out a towel, navy blue T-shirt and sweatpants out for the Doctor. He stripped to his skins and dried himself off with the towel. Soon he found the T-shirt was fitting, and almost flattering. The Doctor turned to the mirror, (tastefully bordered with white and gold inlay) and half-heartedly did up his hair, too fatigued to actually prepare himself. He also didn't care nearly enough.

The stinging of the engraved lettering on his chest had calmed enough that it only became intolerable when touched. The soft cotton shirt over it didn't bring on any particularly harsh pain. Exhaling and mildly afraid he'd breathe out ever ounce of energy he had, the Doctor fumbled with the door handle and made his way out.

He looked to the left to find a grand hallway, chandelier gracing the ceiling, leading down to a dead end. It was painted a rich red with more doors lining the wall. He found himself staring at it tiredly. Suddenly something touched his back and the Doctor jumped back instinctually, whipping around to see what it was.

The Master, spiffy in his suit and tie, stood leaning against the wall, hands behind his back. "You forgot something." He grinned, pulled out a hand to reveal a black collar with little wires running a quarter of the length.

"No." the Doctor took a step back. If he had that electric collar on him, his chances of escaping would become none.

The Master shut his eyes and smiled, before opening them again, gaze fixating on the Doctor's eyes, calm and disapproving. "Come hither, Doctor. Be a good pet." The Doctor took another step away, deciding which way to run. "You can make this easy or hard, Doctor. I'm fine with either way. Something you should know, though. I've since hired help."

It didn't matter what the Master meant by 'help', the Doctor had picked his direction. Immediately he stepped past the Master, pushing him aside and ran. He had to find his sonic, that was the only way he could get anything done. His wet hair flew past his ears as he sprinted down the hallways, pulse too loud to hear if his captor was pursuing him or not.

The Master calmly watched as his Doctor ran out of sight. It wouldn't be very fun, considering there wasn't much sport to it. The Master turned to the wall, said something in Gallifreyan and watched a little control panel reveal itself in the drywall. He tapped some buttons and walked calmly to another room, this one more cozy, a grey-red carpeting spread across the floor. There was a large comfortable chair that was almost a couch (one the Master had picked himself), a small table and a thin mattress attached to a wooden board with manacles and foot shackles on either side.

All that was left to do was wait for his dear, stupid Doctor.

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><p>AN: Wow, it's been a forever! I just got back from a long vacation, hopefully I'll keep up with this story. Tell me what you think! :D


	18. Chapter 18

The sweat began to prick it's way onto the Doctor's forehead, as he ran, searching for a transport pod, an airplane dock, a safe – something of use. There was absolutely nothing of use in this building! The Master had redesigned it, and although his genius had made it functional, –and tastefully decorated- nothing was useful to the Doctor at this time. He was nervous of opening doors and going in rooms for fear of being cornered.

Finally, he found himself running toward a lobby, a large open room. There were a few human slaves wandering around aimlessly. The Doctor took note of them. _Maybe they could help!_

The Doctor flew to one of the more competent looking girls holding a mop. "Miss! Miss!" she looked up half surprised and her face turned to something of happiness at seeing someone who wasn't in work clothing. The Doctor grabbed her by the shoulders. "I'm in a bit of a tizzy right now, as you can see quite obviously from the running and the sweat – anyway, I'm looking for this thing called a 'sonic screwdriver'. It doesn't look much like a screwdriver but it's a little tool, real techy looking - about this long," he stopped his high speed ramble for a second to motion the length of his sonic. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. Tell all your friends and family, that little piece of equipment's all I need to save your hide and mine from the Master. Find me and give it. Got it? Good." He nodded to her and her mop.

With that he turned on his heels. "Wait!" she called, "Doctor? That's your name? Come back! Who are you? Does the Master have you captured here as well?"

But he didn't have time. If this were any other day and he was being pursued by any other enemy, he would have gladly stopped to explain himself, at least a little, but when it came to the Master, everything was more serious. Whenever he interacted with him, communications were always a tad strained, he had none of his usual levity in speech, none of his usual pride and bravado.

Now he had to either find a way out, find the sonic or hatch something brilliant before someone – or something, caught up to him. Something the Doctor was noticing more and more was the lack of windows in here. It began to feel more like a prison than any old business building. But the Doctor supposed it was. The Master had known the Doctor would show up at one place or another, he must have chosen here for a reason.

He ran down another short, connecting hallway to a second lobby, this one a bit more modest. Lower ceiling, wooden furnishings. But it was lighter in here. The Doctor looked up and found a small skylight. Perhaps big enough to escape through?

Without contemplating a real idea, the Doctor began to haphazardly stack chairs and tables and whatever he could find. Making something to climb up and break out. Suddenly, he heard a whirring and heavy, quick step. He turned to see four metal figures with three legs and four arms each. Their metal was a sleek steel, a sharp, cunning design. On their shoulders each one hefted laser pointers that seemed to have the potential to do more than just fire red light.

The Doctor took a good look at them, turned to look and realized then that this lobby was not a lobby at all. It was a dead end. Oh of all the places…

He felt red beams on his chest and face. The Doctor knew when he was defeated and also knew, even though the Master would never program them to kill him, they could hurt him bloody well bad. He squeezed his eyes shut, brows wrinkled in anger, and opened them again with his arms up.


	19. Chapter 19

They handled him rather roughly, one wrapping it's two mechanical arms around his waist, forming a restraint, and it's third and forth arm forming a brace around head with just enough pressure for it to be painful. Two of the three legs came forward and forced the Doctor into a sitting position while the third stayed back as a support, and it propelled itself forward by some working the Master had concocted.

The Doctor sat with his arms dangling at his sides, no handcuffs supplied. It must have been a slip up, the Doctor remarked. He knew how much the Master adored all forms of bondage. Another one of his fetishes and obsessions, he thought as he surrendered into the metal grip of the chair-bot.

It stopped abruptly in front of a different door. The Doctor's neck half jerked forward, but the strain on his head wouldn't let him. He mentally winced slightly at the pain. One of the other four robots' arms stretched forward to open the door and as it peeled open, it revealed a content looking Master with his fingers neatly folded in his lap.

"That took a little shorter than expected, Doctor. You've disappointed me." The Master grinned with mock dissatisfaction. He waved a finger, motioning the Robot to bring the Doctor over. It did at the gesture. "Do you like my new servants, Doctor?"

"They're quite elegant, even for you." The Doctor said unenthusiastically. He did actually quite admire the craft, he was not, however, in the mood to admit it.

"Aren't they?" He beamed and tweaked the Doctor on the nose. The Doctor batted away the hand. "Oh silly me, I forgot manacles."

"You really think I'm going to try to fight you, Master?"

"Well, I don't know about that. I doubt you would, you're far too weak." The Master took the Doctor's limp hand, noting that the other time lord didn't draw away. That was something he loved about the Doctor, his weakness. How even though the Master could crush and kill, the Doctor would still long for his affection, come crawling back for it. Now the Doctor could have his affection, but it would be at a price and set date and time that only the Master knew.

The Master drew a finger up the Doctor's bare arm, T-shirt leaving him feeling exposed. The Doctor never liked having his arms exposed, save on the beach. He got cold rather easily and his upper arms were sensitive on this regeneration. Still, he did not draw away. "You being so weak, feeble. It would be so easy to believe, except for one thing." The smile drained out of the Master's face as they stared into each other's eyes. The Master noticed the Doctor's eyes drawing up, like he was anticipating being hit. They both knew what he was going to say.

But the Master didn't continue with his sentence, instead just gestured his hand so that the robot dropped the Doctor right onto the Master's lap, where he pulled his arms around him possessively. The Doctor sort of melted there, quietly grateful to be in the Master's gentle embrace than the abrasive grasp of the Robot. His temples still throbbed, however.

The Doctor was leaning sideways, bodily slumped. The Master was gently stroking his tummy, which tickled somewhat. "I've been thinking," The Master started in, more serious, but still an air of overconfidence settling over his voice, "I need to establish some rules." He bounced the Doctor slightly on his knee.

The Doctor didn't even care what the Master was going to say. He'd been expecting something actual, something important at first. But he heard the Master's tone of voice and knew it would just be something to inflate his ego and power. It was odd, though. The Doctor felt the Master's hand on his stomach and got a warm sensation all over himself. He knew that he wanted to be with the Master, he did in fact want to be here. Maybe that was why, despite his anger and confusion and thousand other emotions, he didn't feel the need to fight or run. He just felt the need to be here with the Master, however hard it was to be in this position of helplessness.

"First off, you reply to my commands with 'Yes Master'." The Master waited. The Doctor didn't echo. "Ahem. Doctor."

The Doctor sighed and let out an unenthusiastic, "Yes Master."

"You need more motivation." The Master deliberately tickled the Doctor's stomach, making him flinch slightly. "Ah that's right," he oozed, "The collar. I'd almost forgotten." He said this in a way that made the Doctor sure that it hadn't left his mind for even a split second.

"Master, there's no reason for-"

"Ah, but there is." He reached into his blazer pocket and sat upright, bringing the Doctor in front of him, like a child on his lap. He pulled out the sleek, black collar that looked uncomfortably perilous. The Doctor's eyes got wider in the slightest and he pushed the Master's hand away.

"Looks like someone doesn't like my impeccable taste in fashion."

"Master, do not put that on me. I'll comply with whatever games you've devised, but I will not wear that." The Doctor would be desperate in his attempt not to have it around his neck. He would barter for most of his personal freedoms just to have it off of him. He knew, then, when the collar was pulled tight, that there would be no sanctuary, not even within his own body. He could avoid the Master's punches or take them at least, but he knew that shocks generated from around his neck were unavoidable.

"It'll make the games more fun, Doctor."

"Not the ones I'll be playing." The Doctor replied seriously.

The Master clapped his hands twice and two robotic arms shot around the Doctor's wrists, tying them in front of him. The Master tutted. "You should know better than to talk back to your Master."

"We are equals. Why can't you see that? Why can't you let us be equals? You're putting yourself below me right now and I hate seeing that." The Doctor replied quietly.

The Master bit his lower lip angrily as he fastened the fusion of leather and metal stitching to the Doctor's neck. He pulled it tighter than it needed to be. "I am your lord and Master. You are my pet. My favorite pet." His anger turned into a dangerous heat. "But pets need training, Doctor."

"Master, stop this."

"Pets don't speak until I say they do."

"Master-"

"Pets know their place."

"Stop-"

"Do you know your place?" the Master stared deep, deep into the Doctor's eyes, right hand crawling up his chest to the letters beveled on his chest. The Doctor noticed the pain seething through his skin. "Do you know your place?" he repeated, again, more urgently.

"Yes…Master." The Doctor bit through the pain.

"I don't think you do." The Master reached into his pocket and produced a small remote with dials and a couple buttons on it. He set the dial to four (out of ten, how fitting), and pressed the button.

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><p>AN: I'm kind of really getting into this story, therefore you're getting 2 updates within 12 hours. :D The next chapter might have a little more plot development. Maybe. This story isn't really going to go much of anywhere except escape and whatever else the Master has the Doctor do. Am I staying in character? Is my writing okay? Next chapter's going to take a little risk, hope it's alright.


	20. Chapter 20

"Aaaaaah!" the Doctor's scream was piercing enough that it could have broken not glass, but thick metals, shattering them into dust. It rapidly drown out to something like a gurgling choke as the Doctor's eyes shut and he fell back into the Master's arms, totally still. Then a twitch – then still again.

Something went through the Master's eyes – fear. Quickly, without hesitation, he pulled the Doctor in and checked his pulse, feeling himself begin to shake. His hands were too jittery, but he forced them to freeze to the spot. They became so motionless that he began to feel his own pulse before the Doctor's. It was reminiscent of the drums, the common sixteenth rhythm that infested in mind and body.

He forced himself to focus, and made his arms unmoving, and through the flesh of the Doctor and his own fast beating hearts, he felt the pulse of the other time lord. The Master let out a huge sigh of relief. A tiny urge to draw the Doctor into his arms tugged at his mind. But the reminder of the drums, as they beat back into his conscious being, kicked out that thought.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and examined his Doctor, whose eyes were shut and brows knitted slightly. The Master hadn't known how powerful the shock would be. Of course he had found this thing on earth, so he'd hotwired it, thinking humans were too soft to be able to create real pain. He'd had no idea that only the fourth setting would be enough to knock out a time lord.

The drums told him to put the Doctor up on the table he'd prepared with arm and ankle bindings, but the Master refused to do so. He couldn't. He told himself he was stalling it so that the Doctor would be able see the beautiful strapping table when he awoke - but behind a door that was kept locked by the drums was the real reason for his delay; He felt scared. Genuinely scared, at least for that moment. The thought of losing the Doctor was something he never wanted to face. Out of his own selfishness, he could allow the Doctor to be the last of their species, but he couldn't allow himself that agony.

The urge to embrace the Doctor came back, stronger this time. The drums got louder and louder as the yearn became stronger and stronger until the Master uttered a tiny sound and pulled the Doctor in tightly, against the command of the drums, burying his face in the Doctor's limp shoulder. This was okay, he wasn't awake to see this weakness. The Master felt the Doctor's shallow breaths, and drew him in closer. Don't leave me Doctor…he thought, I command you, don't leave me.

The Doctor's hair was still wet, and it made his neck and the shoulder of his blazer damp. He felt alone, once again. He couldn't know when the Doctor would wake up. It could be the next second, it could be tomorrow. Hell, he could have put the Doctor into a coma. No….That thought scared him so much that he pushed it out of his head, and pulled the Doctor in even closer.

If there was some way the Doctor and the Master were very similar, it was a mutual loneliness. Both of them were so lonely. The Doctor, living his existence as the last of his kind when the Master ran off or died - The Lonely Angel. The Master, isolating himself from love and kindness of other beings, forcing it away - the Lonely Adversary.

The Master denied himself of his desires, not allowing anything of weakness to show. That was what they were, his feelings - just weaknesses. But when these moments, these chances came (and so rarely they did), his weaknesses surfaced more than any other time and he _hated_ it. Hated them more than he hated everything about the Doctor. Hated them enough to admit that he _didn't_ hate the Doctor.

- Although it felt so good to be holding the Doctor in his arms.

The Master noticed the Doctor's breathing became steadier. He exhaled a breath he just realized he'd been holding and brought his hand up and down the Doctor's back, rubbing it gently. _Wake up_, he thought, the plead like background noise in the soundtrack of the drums. He didn't want to be alone with this song, this never ending beat. _Wake up._

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><p>Oy, working with the Master emotionally is like trying to nail jello to the wall. XD Anyway, hope it wasn't too OOC it seems a bit like that, but I did my best. I received a comment telling me that they were sad it would be ending so soon with the sonic screwdriver bringers. Oh, I'm liking this story too much to let it slip so easily. There's going to be a range of stuff happening before I give this one up! And if you want this story but roles reversed, I have another MasterDoctor that's really this story, flipped. It's called 'Doing Time'. I haven't worked much with it recently, but I like it. It's a lot less violent and more emotional. Check it out if you want.

AnyWHO (lol punny), if there's something you want to see in the story and/or you have feedback, rants or compliments, I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to hear them! So R&R people! I wanna know you're out there!


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